The Dream Lives On
by DetectiveMinerva
Summary: The Dowager Empress Marie Feodorovna isn't sure whether or not to believe the story of a young woman claiming to be her granddaughter, but when a music box and a lullaby come into the picture, she realizes that her dream is still alive and will always live on. The "reunion" scene from the movie, extended. Marie's POV.


I've loved the movie _Anastasia_ ever since I was a little girl, but I've never written a story about it - until now! The reunion scene is one of my favorites in the film, and I thought it would be interesting to get a peek into the thoughts of the Dowager Empress Marie during the pivotal moment, as well as extend the scene a little. There's some Russian history and a favorite song from the film woven into this tale, as well as plenty of emotion and love... and a little bit of Sophie/Vladimir thrown in, too!

* * *

For the last ten years, the only tears shed by the dowager empress of Russia were those of heartache and pain. On that horrible night in 1916, the Bolshevik Revolution began, and the lives of her family came to a tragic, bloody end. Her son, Nicholas, the czar. Her daughter-in-law, Alexandra, the czarina. Her grandson, Alexei, the heir Three of her granddaughters, the grand duchesses: Olga, Tatiana, and little Marie. All of them shot to death... all but one.

For a long time after, rumors swirled around the world, unable to be quashed by the new Communist government. The rumors whispered, even shouted in some circles, that Anastasia, the youngest grand duchess, was still alive somewhere. To many citizens of the new Soviet Union, the rumors were a source of juicy gossip. For Dowager Empress Marie Feodorovna, they were her only hope.

There had been many theories put forth about Anastasia's escape. Some said the soldiers ordered to kill the imperial family took pity on her and set her free. Others said that Alexandra had sewn jewels into her daughters' corsets, which deflected the firing squad's bullets. All rumors and speculation, nothing more.

Only Marie knew the truth about her youngest granddaughter's escape, for it had been _her_ escape as well. On the night the palace was stormed, the entire family had made a rush for the main exit of the Catherine Palace, but Anastasia ran back to get her precious music box. Marie ran after her and tried to usher her out, but a young servant boy helped them escape undetected – through a secret passage in a wall. Marie and Anastasia had tried to make a run for it on the last train out of St. Petersburg, but Anastasia missed the train in the worst way. She'd fallen, hit her head on the platform, and been lost in the frenzied crowd. Marie never saw her again after that night, but didn't give up hope that her grandchild was still alive.

For years, Marie had offered a reward of ten million rubles – a fortune – to anyone who could return Anastasia to her. With the help of her cousin, Sophie Somorkov-Smirnoff, she interviewed hundreds, maybe thousands, of young women claiming to be Anastasia. All were impostors seeking money. None of them ever stopped to think about the pain they were putting her through, attempting to use her in such a manner and insulting her granddaughter's memory.

Marie wasn't stupid. She knew how it would have gone: one of those girls would cook up a convincing story, throw in some tears for added effect, and have the nerve to call her "Grandmama," but never had any intention of staying. Their idea was to abscond with the money and leave her as lonely and bitter as she had grown.

 _No more... no more..._

By the time she had resolved never to see any more girls claiming to be Anastasia, a young rogue blew into her life, stubborn as a donkey, insisting that he, a con artist of all people, had finally found her granddaughter. She'd been ready to have him arrested for kidnapping, after the stunt he pulled with her car... and then he pulled out the music box.

Marie's heart nearly stopped. It wasn't possible. Anastasia had lost her music box the night their lives were torn apart. How on Earth could he have found it? Unless... _no._ The servant boy who rescued them... was he the man she now beheld? Could his story be true? Those questions were flying through Marie's mind as she went to see this young woman.

Marie's initial reaction upon seeing her was one of shock. For a moment, it was like her Nicky was staring back at her. The same stunning, cornflower-blue eyes, the same mouth, the same stature. And echoes of Alexandra in her cheekbones and chin... Marie shook her head. _No._ Just a coincidence, the hopes of an old woman. Rather, she kept her face composed into a neutral mask. If this girl was indeed an impostor, there was no sense in encouraging her by betraying emotion.

As it was, the girl was staring open-mouthed at Marie, completely shocked – because she thought Dimitri, the con man, was the visitor. Marie had heard her shout "Go away, Dimitri" after the knock at the door, and couldn't say she blamed the child. Possibly, she had been hoodwinke by him, but Marie was more inclined to believe the girl was a clever actress.

"Oh!" she gasped, holding a hand to her mouth. "I'm sorry! I thought you were..."

"I know very well who you thought I was," Marie said, standing on the threshold of the bedroom. Warily, she stepped inside, eyeing the latest Anastasia claimant. "Who exactly are you?"

The girl clasped her hands. "I was hoping you could tell me."

Well, that was new. All the others had boldly declared themselves to be Anastasia. This one was actually asking the very same question Marie had posed, and she even sounded sincere. However, Marie would not let a sob story sway her. "My dear," she began, crossing the room to the window, "I'm old. And I'm tired of being conned and tricked."

"I don't want to trick you."

Marie nearly let out a sour laugh. _That's what many of the others said. That's even what that devil Rasputin said to Alexandra. How do I know who to trust anymore?_ "And I suppose the money doesn't interest you either?" she asked wryly, turning briefly to appraise the girl. No change in expression, no obvious signs of guilt. This girl was good... but that look on her face. It was the same plaintive look Anastasia had always worn whenever she was worried, especially for her brother, Alexei, who had suffered from hemophilia. Feeling a sudden surge of emotion, Marie turned back to the window. She couldn't look this girl in the eye for long, not without betraying herself.

Marie heard footsteps coming closer. "I just want to know who I am," the girl said. "Whether or not I belong to a family... _your_ family."

For the briefest of seconds, Marie felt her heart twist. None of the others had expressed the desire to be part of a family; to belong somewhere to someone. Marie knew how that felt. She felt lost after the death of her husband, Czar Alexander III, but at least she had had her family to belong to. After the Revolution and losing Anastasia, she had no one – except Sophie, bless her heart. But with her children and grandchildren gone, Marie had a void in her heart that not even Sophie could fill.

 _I know you've been hurt, but it's just possible that she's been as lost and alone as you._

Was it? Could this child just be honestly searching for home, love, and a family? Years of nursing a jaded heart, however, told Marie otherwise, and she faced the girl with a rather sad smile. "You're a very good actress. Best yet, in fact, but... I've had enough."

As she turned to leave, Marie wondered if she'd been too harsh. She'd seen the pain in the girl's eyes just before she walked away, and again considered if she was telling the truth. _I'm sorry, child. I can't help you._ The empress was on the verge of crossing the threshold when the girl suddenly spoke again. This time, it was a curious question. "Peppermint?"

She must have smelled the oil Marie used to keep the skin of her hands soft – and to treat the arthritis that came with old age. "An oil for my hands," she said brusquely.

"Yes..." The girl's voice stopped her again. "I spilled a bottle... the carpet was soaked, and it forever smelled of peppermint, like you!"

Marie turned around, staring at the girl. It couldn't be. Anastasia had once spilled a bottle of the empress's peppermint oil, when Marie visited from Anitchkov. Nicholas had written to her later, telling her how the little grand duchess loved to lay on the rug and inhale the smell, imagining Marie was still there. But how could this girl know that?

"I used to lie there on the rug, and oh, how I missed you when you went away! When you came here... to Paris," the girl said, massaging her forehead as if it hurt.

Her knees suddenly weak, Marie sat down on a nearby vanity bench. That was a mere trifle, a story that no one but one of the family would have known. It had certainly not been among the questions Sophie always asked in interviews. Then again, neither had anything about another, far more precious secret, part of which Marie now held in her evening bag. The other part had vanished along with Anastasia. Did this girl know anything about it? There was only one way to find out. Marie patted the bench, motioning for the girl to join her. As she sat, the light caught a golden necklace hanging from her neck... a gorgeous green-and-gold pendant in the shape of a flower.

Marie felt the wind go out of her sails. "What is that?" she breathed, pointing at the necklace. She kept telling herself it was just a coincidence, but her memories told her a different tale. She'd had the music box and necklace made for Anastasia. Carl Fabergé, the court jeweler, had assured her that they were both one of a kind. Perhaps someone had found the necklace and sold it...

"This?" The girl smiled for the first time that night, and Marie felt her heart lurch again. That was her Nicky's smile – _her_ smile. "Well... I've always had it, since before I can remember."

Now Marie remembered: Anastasia had been wearing the necklace the night they were separated. She'd seen the gold flashing in the train station lights just as her granddaughter fell... and gotten a nasty bump on the head. Did Anastasia lose her memory, all knowledge of who she was and how much she had been loved? And if that really was her necklace, the proof was etched on the back. "May I?" Marie asked, holding out a hand. When the necklace was placed in her palm, Marie examined the pendant's back. There, engraved in the bright gold, was her promise to Anastasia: _Together in Paris._ "It was our secret," Marie said, her throat thick with emotion. "My Anastasia's and mine." Wordlessly, the empress reached into her evening bacg and withdrew the missing piece of the puzzle.

The girl gasped, her blue eyes wide. "The music box!" Gently, she took the jeweled box from Marie. "To... to sing me to sleep when you were in Paris!" She reclaimed the necklace and used it to wind the music box, humming the first two lines of... _our lullaby,_ Marie thought, her eyes welling with tears. And when the humming gave way to singing, those tears began to flow. Marie joined the song, her heart bursting with joy. It was true! At last, her dream had come true, and was sitting right in front of her, also weeping with happiness.

"Oh, Anastasia!" Marie cried, caressing her granddaughter's face. "My Anastasia!" With a joyous sob, Anastasia fell into her embrace and held on for dear life. That suited Marie, for she didn't want to let go either. "My darling..." She kissed the top of Anastasia's head, rocking her in her arms. "You're alive! You're home!"

"I'm home," Anastasia repeated, as though she hardly dared to believe it. "I knew there was someone who loved me!"

"My precious girl, I have loved you ever since the day you were born." Marie took Anastasia's face in her hands. "When I held you for the first time, you looked up at me and smiled. Right then, I knew we were going to share a special bond. We were so close, until that terrible night..." Marie grasped Anastasia's hands. "How much do you remember about the night we were torn apart?"

Anastasia closed her eyes. "Very little... was there a... a ball?"

"Yes! The Tricentennial Ball! We were celebrating the 300th anniversary of our family's rule."

Anastasia's eyes flew open. Something must have become clear to her when she heard the significance of the ball. "Yes! I remember now! The gowns, the jewels, the lights, and it was snowing! I was dancing with Papa! You gave me my music box that night!" She squeezed her eyes shut tight again, rubbing her temples. "The last thing I remember is falling off a train. Someone yelled for me, and then... nothing." She looked up at Marie. "You yelled for me. You tried to take my hand and help me up, but I lost my grip and fell. That must be how I lost my memory."

Marie swallowed hard. "I've blamed myself for years. I should have been stronger; I should have held on. We would have been together in Paris all this time, and none of this would have happened."

Anastasia was quiet for a moment. "You might think I'm crazy for saying this, but maybe this happened for a reason." She laid a hand on Marie's forearm. "Why did my family die?"

Silence reigned for a good minute before Marie could answer. "They were cursed," she finally said, her voice breaking. "The leaders of the new government had them killed to ensure no Romanov would ever be able to reclaim the throne."

"Cursed..." Anastasia murmured, holding her head again. Marie wondered how much she remembered about _him,_ the devil who had weaseled his way into their family, betrayed them, and destroyed their lives. Marie didn't even like thinking about him, much less talking about him; it had been painful enough recalling what had happened to Nicholas, Alexandra, and their four other children. If Anastasia did remember, she didn't give any indication or mention the devil's name. Rather, she simply said, "I wonder..."

"You wonder what, my dearest?"

Anastasia fixed her eyes on Marie. "When I was little, I always asked God who I was and what I was meant to do. Do you think He spared me because I'm meant to break this curse?"

Marie laughed, wiping her tears away. Some would indeed have thought that crazy, but given all the empress had seen in her lifetime, it actually made perfect sense. "I don't know, darling. The Lord works in great and mysterious ways, and He has a plan for all of us. After all, your name means 'reborn,' and so you have been." She chucked Anastasia under her chin. "You were dead, in a way, and now you're alive again. I'm so happy, I could fly," Marie said, hugging her granddaughter close again. "I love you, Anastasia."

"I love you, too... Grandmama."

The name brought on a fresh wave of tears – unfortunately, just as Sophie walked in, home from the ballet. "My heavens!" she exclaimed, holding a hand to her ample bosom. "Marie! You came here to see her? I thought..."

"Sophie, we've all thought a great many things tonight," Marie began, drying her eyes. "Many of which were not what we realized." She rose from the vanity bench. "And I did not come here of my own accord. I was brought here by a very adamant young man, with whom you had a hand in all this, I'm sure." Marie did her best to give her cousin an imperious look, but dissolved into laughter when Sophie flushed a bright crimson. It was all right. Given the outcome, this little conspiracy was something she could forgive.

Anastasia, meanwhile, was frowning in confusion. "Grandmama, you mean _Dimitri_..."

"I'll explain later, my dear. Right now, we need to get you home." Marie turned to Sophie. "Would you please ask Baron Vladimir, if he is not already filling himself with cakes, to alert your chauffeur. Oh, you don't fool me, Sophie," Marie said when Sophie's mouth dropped open, "I've known about your romance for years. Frankly, I've been wondering when the two of you would give up that pen-and-paper flirtation and just get married."

At the word _married,_ Sophie squealed with delight, clapping her hands like an excited child. "Oh, Marie! Does this mean we have your blessing?"

"Yes, you have my blessing. Lord knows it's about time. Now go tell him to have Luc bring the car around. We have a ball and a wedding to plan, and I have a lot of catching up to do with my granddaughter."

Nodding enthusiastically, Sophie kissed Marie on both cheeks and engulfed Anastasia in a hug, thanking and congratulating them in turn. She then trotted out the door, shouting for Vladimir. In a moment, Vladimir's shout of elation and a Russian celebration song could be heard, as well as Sophie's laughter. Marie shook her head. "Honestly, those two..."

"Well, Grandmama," Anastasia spoke up, a sly grin on her face, "at least Vlad has his decadent pastry filled with whipped cream and laughter now."

Marie roared with laughter, taken completely off guard by Anastasia's remark. "Where did you hear _that_?"

Anastasia giggled. "Vlad said it himself on our journey. And after seeing him with Sophie at the ballet, I wondered myself why they'd never gotten married."

"Well, no need to worry anymore. And speaking of your journey..." Marie put an arm around Anastasia and led her to the door. "You must tell me all about it when we get home."

* * *

Later that night, after a late supper of hot soup and croissants, Marie listened with rapt attention as Anastasia told her the whole story: her life in a government orphanage, her necklace as the only clue to a family, and her journey to St. Petersburg, where she'd found Dimitri and Vladimir at the abandoned Catherine Palace. From then on out, it was a rip-roaring tale of runaway trains, storms at sea, and the glamor of Paris, culminating in their happy reunion.

"My stars!" Marie exclaimed when Anastasia finished. "You certainly had a grand adventure! And until tonight, you knew nothing about Dimitri's plan?"

Anastasia's face clouded over; clearly, she was still upset with Dimitri. "No. He never said a word to me. All I knew was that he and Vlad wanted to bring Anastasia back to you." She chuckled softly. "The joke sure was on them... and on me. Even I didn't believe I was who... who I am. I didn't care about money, fancy clothes, jewels, or a title. All I wanted was a family, and to know that someone out there loved me."

Marie's eyes rested on her granddaughter. She'd had a time of it, poor child. First born into a world of titles, elegant palaces, royal balls, and sparkling jewels, then robbed of her memories, living life as an orphaned member of the Soviet proletariat. Now, she was back in the world she once knew. At Marie's chateau, Anastasia was dressed in silk pajamas, about to sleep on a soft feather bed with fat pillows and satin sheets – a far cry from the ragged clothes and hard bed she must have had at that orphanage. She had luxury now, it was true, but more importantly, she had love and a place to belong. No one was ever going to take that away again.

"Anastasia, you have always been loved. You loved your family more than anything. And perhaps someday, that love will help you to forgive Dimitri."

"Forgive him? Grandmama, he lied to me!" Anastasia exclaimed incredulously.

"I cannot condone his initial actions, but as you said, the joke was on him. He realized that, instead of a consummate actress, he had found the lost Romanov heir. He did mention that he used to work in the palace; perhaps that is how he finally recognized you."

Anastasia shifted uncomfortably. "He did bring up something I said during my interview with Sophie. I remembered a boy opening a wall in the palace so you and I could escape, but what has that got to do with him?"

Marie laughed. Her earlier supposition had been confirmed. "Darling, he _was_ that boy. He saved our lives that night."

Despite Anastasia's obvious surprise, she let out a sigh of frustration. "Great. Now he'll have another reason to beg for that reward money."

Marie merely smiled and slipped an arm around her granddaughter's shoulders. "We'll find out soon. I have a feeling that young man may surprise us yet. He surprised me by kidnapping me and bringing me to you, after all." She kissed Anastasia's cheek. "And now, I think it's time we were both in bed. Tomorrow, we must begin preparations for the ball to welcome you home, and you and I still have many memories to unlock." As Anastasia snuggled down beneath her covers, Marie couldn't help but tuck her in. Her granddaughter was eighteen years old now, a grown woman, but Marie still wanted to make up for all the years Anastasia had no one to tuck her in bed and kiss her goodnight. As she did, she noticed a smile on the grand duchess's face. "Why are you smiling, my dear? Are you happy to be home?"

"Of course I am, Grandmama. It's just that... I've been alone in the dark for so long. I always dreamed of finding my family and coming out of the darkness so I'd never be alone again." Anastasia reached for Marie's hand and squeezed it. "And you had the same dream, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. I've been waiting so long for this day, and now I know our dream will always live on," Marie said, as Anastasia gave her a fierce, warm hug. "Nothing will ever tear us apart, my dear." Joy like nothing Marie ever felt she would feel again filled her. Her granddaughter had found the love and family she'd longed for, and the dowager empress had found the happiness she had lost. All was well at last.


End file.
